Terran Empire - Unity (Mirror Trek AU Fan Fic)

[Akira]

more from HT

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Chapter 30 – Assassin

City of Eden, Roof of Tower 602

11J watched as the shattered, smoke trailing remnants of the aircar slammed down into the slightly rolling hills dotted here and there with clusters of deep blue evergreen and deciduous trees. A fountain of earth and sod was thrown up like a cresting wave, then the aircar pin wheeled back into the air in a lazy looking arc. It amazingly landed right side up, skidding along the uneven ground amidst the sound of tortured metal for another 100 feet before finally shuddering to a stop within a clump of pine tree analogs. Their desiccated needles caught softly to light, smoldering as the piping hot sections of the aircar came to rest on them. It was only thanks to his mimicking ability that he saw and heard it at all, for the ground was far, far below his vantage point. The crash site was in the lightly wooded meadowlands that wreathed Eden where the massive towers ended.

Time to make sure of things, then to escape, 11J thought. He leaned forward and dove off of the roof. Tower 602’s floors whipped past him as he fell headlong down its side. The operative could see startled people’s faces as he fell by. They had been startled when they heard and saw the explosion, and with typical predictability, many had approached their windows to rubber neck. He extended his arms, transforming them into giant leathery wings with tufts of ebon feathers along their leading edge. Once he was fully a Grenobulin Condactal, he tucked his wings back in and plummeted earthward like an arrow shaped stone.

City of Eden, Ulysses’ Aircar, that same time

Ulysses awoke to a pounding pain from the left side of his head. He faintly heard the popping and sizzling of electronics coming from what was left of his ruined ride. The air was a mixture of melted synthetics, acrid smoke and almost pungent pine. His vision was messed up, and not only because he was still woozy from the crash. All he could make out was blurred, indistinct shapes. The synthetic Imperial eyepiece that had replaced the scabberous growth of a Borg ocular implant was now transmitting snowy and only intermittently sending a signal to his brain. Its view, normally seamless when compared with his lone remaining biological eye, was now noticeably mechanical. Ulysses reached up to finger the wound. It seemed the entire mechanism was smashed, and as he probed further, he discovered why. A Frost Shadow Pine branch, as big around as his torso, had speared itself through the spider web of cracks in the aircars windscreen. A fraction of an inch to the right and it would have smashed his head flat as it took out his seat’s headrest. As it was, the harsh branches and needles had caused a plethora of small scratches and cuts to his face as they passed, adding to the blunt force trauma the main branch had caused.

Ulysses hand probed downward, meeting up with the smashed and swelling remains of his left jaw, involuntarily letting out a low groan of pain as his hands grazed the sensitive wound. He considered himself lucky though, for he couldn’t feel anything above it other than a dull ache. The synthetic eyepiece’s sensory co-processor must have been damaged, which explained both his poor vision and general lack of feeling. “Letinint Thismen.” Ulysses distorted speech echoed off of the bulkheads. Nothing answered. “LETININT THISMEN!” He half shouted, wincing as the slight movement grated his pulped jaw together. Ulysses finally heard a soft groan reply, then nothing his ears could discern. At least his pilot was still alive, as was he. His vision clearing, if still cause for slight disorientation, Ulysses began to take stock of his situation. Feet moved, as did legs. Left arm moved. Right arm… Ulysses screamed! His vision began to tunnel as unconsciousness began to beckon again. Ulysses resisted, and gradually the gray edges around his distorted sight began to retreat.

Definitely broken, he thought, his left hand gingerly probing along the top of his uniform’s arm. As carefully as he could, he reached across and pulled out the first aid kit from its storage space under his control board. Extracting the adaptive splint spray, he applied it directly onto his forearm. The nano-polymer streamed out and enveloped his arm, the nanite’s simple programming taking over and causing the foam like substance to wrap around his wounded appendage. Once the two sides had met on the other side, taking mere seconds, they began to harden until they couldn’t be moved apart from their set position by average movement. While still painful, at least he could move around now. Unhooking the harness that had likely saved his life, Ulysses rose on unsteady legs The implant camera was responding fitfully, and without the mechanism to close his eyelid, or even an eyelid left to close for that matter, Ulysses solved the problem with an old fashioned eye patch. In addition to the wound sutures and other high tech medical tools in the pouch, there was old fashioned gauze and bandages. Ulysses took the gauze and wrapped the bundle around his head, covering his damaged eye, blocking its view. Immediately, his lone good eye became much easier to use to see.

Ulysses scrambled out through the virtually nonexistent windscreen, the chill of the rapidly cooling air causing him to shiver slightly. It would be winter here in a few months, and Lilith winters were fairly intense for one used to the carefully regulated temperature of a starship. He picked his way across the tree branch and finally got his first look at young Lt. Theisman. There was a bloody gash across his forehead, just below his close cropped blond hair, and a snapped pine branch about as big around as Ulysses wrist lay in his lap. He was not conscious, and with possible neck injury Ulysses was hesitant to move him. Then he realized he had no choice. There was a steady hissing sound, and Ulysses realized what it must be. The aircar’s hydrogen cell must have ruptured, and was now leaking. There were small fires all around, sizzling and popping in the tinderbox dry needles and grasses, sending growing curls of smoke into the star flecked navy sky.

Ulysses good hand flashed out and quickly undid Gerald Theisman’s restraints. As the Lt slumped forward, the hand caught his uniform front and pulled him outward onto the nose of the aircar. Hefting him into a fireman’s carry position, Ulysses picked his way, as quickly as he could, away from the ticking time bomb that had been his transportation. His feet moved with care, yet strode as quickly as was prudent through the flickering orange flame lit twilight. He was just exiting the tree line and out into the grassy meadow region that bordered it when a large shadow fell across him and a giant kicked him in his backside and sent him cart wheeling down the shallow grade.

Lilith Orbit, Assault Shuttle Marine 238 Baker, on Customs Patrol, that same time

Chief Gunnery Sergeant Brian McKennon surveyed the Marines, all 103 of them, assembled in the back of the assault shuttle that had been tapped to provide customs inspection teams for this shift. Clad in combat power armor with full weapons loads, they were a fearsome sight, and one that caused McKennon’s heart to warm. If there were any enemies of the Empire in the system’s recent arrivals, they would get a pointed showing of just how much the Imperial Marines thought of them.

They were all currently aboard an assault shuttle, currently in transit to the next titanic merchie that had been forced to Prescott’s Star. Although there was nothing that could be done to safeguard the surrounding colonies that wouldn’t leave Prescott’s Star itself vulnerable, that very same concentration of Fleet units had made Prescott’s Star the only viable harbor in the sector for merchies who served those colonies. The ones that couldn’t cut directly for safer space, those who needed to make repairs or refuel, they inevitably wound up at Prescott’s Star. And as such, they had to be looked over lest they be harboring Galactic Unity spies or worse.

While none had yet been encountered by any of the customs patrols, that didn’t mean that they couldn’t, and with new ships arriving hourly, Prescott’s Star’s parking orbits were beginning to get a might crowded. McKennon didn’t envy STC one bit, for they must be having a hell of a time ensuring the safe separation distance between merchies and the mandatory separation between merchies and Starfleet assets.

“Attention, Attention!” the com speaker snapped with the shuttle pilot’s voice. “We have a Fallen Angel, repeat, Fallen Angel. Orders from the Forge are to render assistance, both in air support and securing the crash site and any survivors. Get ready, we’ll be over the drop site in 20 seconds.”

Fallen Angel was code phrase for an attack against a senior officer, and as far as McKennon knew there was only one of those dirtsid… Oh HELL! Many of his fellow Marines realized the same thing in almost the same instant, and an almost feral growl coursed through them, and McKennon joined them. Nearly all of Prescott’s Star’s Marines approved of Ulysses handling of things, especially how he set things straight right away. This was only understandable, given that it would be the Marines who would pay the price for any screw ups by Starfleet. They saw Ulysses Vanguard as one of their own, both for his professionalism and the respect he held for all Marines under his command. And if they got a hold of the person responsible, he was going to be sorry he was ever born.

--- --- ---

The shuttle’s aft swept airfoils gave it the appearance of a bird of prey on the hunt. The adaptive skin that made up her hull was currently in a black/gray shatter frame scheme. She had been nuzzling up to the primary docking port of a multi million ton merchie when Fallen Angel was issued. By pure chance, she was persecuting the intercept almost directly above Eden, and as such was likely to arrive on scene before even the dirtside assets. Her pilot retracted the half extended belly docking collar and went to full impulse in virtually the same motion. She ignored the squeal of protest from the merchie’s captain, shifting com channels to declare her intentions to STC. At least dirtside traffic was already fleeing from the crash site as fast as they could, it would free up airspace her use. With a quick snap turn, the distant 2/3rds blue/green/white crescent of Lilith began to grow very large, very fast, as the Imperial assault shuttle made planet fall like a bat out of hell. The assault shuttles sensors had clearly shown the destruction of her sister planet side, and as such, this one’s crew were eager for some retribution. She trailed incandescent hellfire as her conformal shields swept atmosphere aside contemptuously, bulling it out of the way as she speared near straight down through the sky.

Outskirts of Eden, that same time

Operative 11J’s ears could pick up the still faint wail of emergency response vehicles approaching his position. Not that they would catch him, all he had to do was morph into one of the local fauna and slip back into a darkened alley or underground parking garage and change back into one of his assumed identities. His keen, bird of prey eyesight picked out movement at the crash site that was by now quite close. Two individuals, one unconscious and being carried by the other, were making for the open ground to the south of the crash site. 11J extended his taloned feet, preparing to pounce on his prey with their foot long, scythe like edges. He was within mere seconds of doing so when a wall of heat and force crashed into him, sending him into a tumble up and away from his targets. A brilliant blue fireball lit the near darkness, catching the pine tree grove on fire. The leaking hydrogen bottle aboard the aircar had finally encountered the small bushfires surrounding it, and the results were to be expected. But unlike the first explosions, 11J wasn’t expecting it, and it caused him to loose sight of his target as he was thrown violently about. The sonic boom that came at near the same instant as the thunderous explosion went unnoticed.

Assault Shuttle Marine 238 Baker, that same time

The pilot station’s sensors had zoomed in on the shattered remains of Ulysses’ aircar. There were two distinct life signs, and both were strong and steady. As a MFD visual display showed, one was carrying the evidently unconscious other away from the wreck. Then another biosign, ignored at first but now becoming a concern, was falling fast and coming down virtually on top of the two survivors. Then, mere seconds before the impact, a miniature blue mushroom cloud blossomed from the aircar’s location causing the IR sensor return to flare white. The explosion swept all three biosigns away from its center, throwing The Skipper and his pilot nearly 30 feet away. Both landed near each other and lay on the ground, unmoving but with steady biosigns. The pilot lifted a hand off of her throttle to push a button on her control panel. A muted whir-thunk went through the assault shuttle, more felt through her flightseat than heard, as its drop bays opened to the chill air of Lilith.

--- --- ---

“Go! Go! Go!” Lt. Avery’s voice boomed through McKennon’s comlink. Not that the Marines needed any encouragement, the first two pairs had already walked out the now open aft end of the Assault Shuttle before he had even opened his mouth with the others following as rapidly as they could. McKennon stepped out of the perfectly good assault shuttle and into Lilith’s atmosphere with the groups CO, Lt. Avery, beside him. Seconds later, his suit twirled him so that he was feet down, then went into a wicked 8 G deceleration. His downward motion had slowed to virtually nothing when his feet finally met the ground. When the first one touched down, McKennon was already in motion. The grav gun held in one of his power armor’s mechanical hands came up across his chest where his other mechanical hand gripped its middle. He had come down very close to his destination, as had the rest of the Marines. Both his internal sensors and the coordinates being supplied by the assault shuttle told him that The Skipper and his pilot were a few hundred meters behind him. Pirouetting till he was facing the right direction, McKennon then strode forward, leaping and activating his AG harness almost as soon as he left the ground. Following his direction, the AG harness popped him up about a foot off of the ground, then held him there as he floated towards his destination. He floated for about 20 meters before he let himself fall back down and repeated the process. The light beads that marked his fellows on his HUD were similarly closing on The Skipper, those fortunate to land nearer to the mark already taking up defensive positions while groups two medics approached closer to look the pair of Imperial officers over.

[Crazedwraith]

1st to post!!
and now to read

EDIT: read now some great discription But a little short
oh well. Slave labour i suppose. U get what u pay for.

EDITED AGAIN: so it actually made sum sense

[HappyTarget]

nut a little short

Little short? 'Tis only a few tens of words shy of 2,500, same as most chapters.

[JodoForce]

EDIT: read now some great dispcorption nut a little short
oh well. Slave labour i suppose. U get what u pay for.

I nominate this to be 'worst proofread edit ever'

[Crazedwraith]

EDIT: read now some great dispcorption nut a little short
oh well. Slave labour i suppose. U get what u pay for.

I nominate this to be 'worst proofread edit ever'

oops thank you for pointing that out. Its fixed now.

[Falkenhorst]

As for the comparision to Weber and White's excellent Starfire series, I'm quite flattered to be amongst such distinguished company.

Well speaking of distinguished company, you'll notice that I now fall into that category too, with my excellent new custom title, har he har har. I think from now on I'm avoiding the politics forum and posting exclusively in FANFICS, and I hope you'll have me here.[/quote]

[HappyTarget]

I have no qualms about people of varying beliefs/politiacal affiliations/creeds enjoying my work. So long as you don't try and force your beliefs/politiacal affiliations/creeds on me HERE IN FANFIC, anyone can read my stuff. Just check the baggage at the door and everything will be fine. Now if you want to debate the politics/beliefs of TEverse characters, go start that in the politics subforum!

[CaptainChewbacca]

Alright, here's what you've been waiting for. I know its been a long time coming, but to be honest I found the premise of this next installment quite daunting. Its a big battle, one of the largest in the last fifty years of Imperial history. I wanted to create some drama, urgency, and at the same time cover it from all sides.

If you don't like it, I'm sorry, but I tried my best. And now...

Chapter 31: The Battle of Bajor


The fleet drifted in the black of space, waiting. All weapons were ready, all crews prepared. Admiral Sisko sat quietly on the flag bridge of the Saratoga, thinking. All of his life, the Empire had been powerful. It had been strong, determined, and victorious. But now, the Cardassians matched them in all three. He was about to engage an enemy fleet, and for once, victory wasn’t certain, or even likely. Riker’s android, Lore, had given odds of success at only 72.3%. Sisko didn’t like those odds, but they would get better fast. He wished Julian was here. The man was a good commissar and would have made a joke right about now. But he was attending to other things.

He stood and straightened his uniform. “Fleet Status!” He barked.

Kira was seated on her command throne four decks down, overseeing several displays on the arms of the seat. “All groups report optimum readiness.” She spoke to the voice coming from the speaker in her chair. “We are deployed in a Zeta-screen formation, and groups alpha, beta, and delta are holding steady. Admiral Aesstuusss reports that Nova wing is fueled ready to launch.”

“Excellent.” Sisko turned to his science officer. “Anything on sensors?”

The young lieutenant worked the controls. “Nothing yet si..” She trailed off. “Wait. Admiral, I am detecting in excess of seven thousand vessels transiting to normal space at seven-eight-two by four-four-one.” Her voice trembled as the color drained from her face. “It’s the Cardassian fleet.”

“Red Alert.” Sisko strode back to his throne and rubbed the Bajoran box he had placed on his console. The light was so... compelling. “When they are within comm range, hail the lead ship. Designate hammer flight and trident flight subordinate to Nova wing.” There was an electric silence throughout the fleet as the Cardassian fleet approached, spreading out like the hood of a cobra ready to strike. In its center, holding back, was a sight which put a knot in Sisko’s stomach. “Tactical, give me a reading on their flagship.”

“It’s a monster, Admiral. Over four kilometers by three by one and a half. It masses more than half of a Bastion-class, and its defenses are just as good..”

The magnified ships were now visible, and Sisko counted the captured Wraiths. The Arizona, the Behemoth, the Meteor, and other paragons of Imperial engineering. How many men had died locked in their quarters on those ships when the energy-dampers hit?

“Admiral,” the comm tech called to him “I have communications with the flagship. It is identifying itself as the Cardassia’s Song.”

“Now batting for the London Kings...” Sisko muttered under his breath. “Onscreen.” With a flicker he was face to face with a Cardassian who he would have to treat as an equal. The commander was a large male, with prominent neck folds. Standing behind him was a stern-looking cardassian dressed in dark leathers, with a cape. He reminded Sisko of a commissar.

The seated male spoke. “This is Legate Damar of the fourth order of the Cardassian Union. We do hereby claim the Bajoran system and the remainder of sector 3921 in the name of the Cardassian Union. Remove your fleet immediately and evacuate all Imperial personnel from the sector in twelve standard days.”

Cardassians always were bold. “Legate Damar, I am Vice-Admiral Sisko, commander of this sector. I do not intend to surrender it to you or to any other hostile force which claims it. This sector belongs to the Empire and to the Bajorans. Now, why don’t YOU withdraw your fleet and go back to your Cardassian Union before I decide Bajora needs a new planet orbiting it.”

Damar gripped the armrests of his chair. The Cardassian homeworld had been destroyed by a Genesis torpedo, but it was a bluff. Sisko had no Genesis torpedoes, the so-called grand alliance had seen to that, but maybe Damar didn’t know that.

The standing Cardassian whispered in his ear, and Damar nodded. “Do what you must, but my men would be honored to die the same death as our homeworld. Check your sensors, Admiral. You are outnumbered and outgunned. No one need die today.” A sardonic smile told Sisko that this Legate didn’t believe that at all.

Sisko reached for a comm panel on his right, and tapped in a set of commands. “Legate Damar, how is the security on your ships?”

Damar’s brow furrowed. “Second to none. What is this about?”

“Well,” Sisko smiled. “you seem to have multiple security breaches.” He hit the execute button on his panel, and space lit up in the Cardassian fleet. “Close channel. Attack all weapons, all ships.” He sat back in his chair. Batter up!

***
Alarms blared on the Song. “What is going on?” Damar threw a young technician away from a flashing panel and scanned the data.

“Legate! The wraith ships!” A comm operator shouted. “Twelve of them have self-destructed. No survivors.”

“To darkness with diplomacy!” Garak was livid. “Punish the terran Terran Treachery!”

***
A red light on Lafayette Sisko’s control board flicked to green. All forces attack. He took the controls, yanking his cobra out of hits holding course and reading his orders as they came from fleet command. Admiral Aesstuusss was a brilliant tactician, and he knew his job. As Lafayette formed his wing together, the Ark-Royal carriers and Agean destroyers formed a great disk, crisscrossing space with their upgraded shield generators to protect the fighters. Lafayette and the rest of Berserker flight were to join the rest of the fighters in torpedo interception. Long shots were long, but take enough and either side could even up the odds with enough of them.

“Berserker Flight, this is Berserker Lead, signal click all.” Lafayette counted silently as twenty-three clicks echoed in his earpiece and were tallied up. The EW generators on each fighter began to charge up, creating a wall of false echoes for the torpedoes to get through. That was Aesstuusss’ favorite tactic. All too soon, the space between the fleets began to shrink, and filled with streaks of light. A few torpedoes came his way, and his flight took care of them with efficiency. A low tone sounded in his headset.

“Screen volley! Flight to position one in ten seconds!” His fighters scrambled to the safe zone, but Berserker fifteen had an engine flutter and didn’t get clear of the friendly fire. Two solid walls of quantum torpedoes flashed out from the steamrunners he had been screening. They streaked across the vanishing gap and slammed into the Cardassian fleet, blossoming into fire and eating away at ships like waves against a sand castle.

A glint of metal caught Lafayette’s eye, and he instinctively mashed down the trigger on his phasers. As he banked to follow, he saw phaser-fire from four of his flightmates converge with the golden energy of hellbore cannons from two hydran fighters against the shields of a galor-class cruiser. It resisted for a few seconds before it exploded. He looked around, and saw that the fighters were now surrounded by Imperial and Cardassian ships. A higher tone echoed in his headset. “Close range achieved. Engage all targets of opportunity.” The Agean destroyers picketing the Ark Royals would still reinforce the shields of Imperial ships nearby, but now Lafayette’s flight was to sow destruction among the lumbering ships of the enemy fleet.

“Berserker flight, form up. Time to hit a few out of the park.” He grinned and glanced down at his readouts. Imperial forces were down four percent, and Cardassians down six percent. Still room for improvement.


***
Legate Damar glared at the display in front of him. Those imperial torpedoes were more powerful than anything his intelligence had reported, and had better tracking, too. He had separated his fleet into five elements, each led by twenty superdreadnaughts, but now they were all blunted thanks to Sisko’s trickery. He silently cursed the Obsidian Order, they had assured the central command that there were no computer-traps or latent programs left, but he had already lost half of the captured wraiths.

He pounded the console. “We have to break through the Imperial line! If we don’t get to Bajor nothing our fleet does is going to matter.” On the display, three of his forward elements were firmly engaged with two prongs of the imperial fleet. The spine of Ark Royals and Ageans down the center of their formation was providing them an anchor they couldn’t dislodge, with the Ageans protecting the carriers, who were constantly refurbishing those blasted fighters. Both forces were evenly matched, but the Cardassian fleet wasn’t advancing.

Garak watched the display with a cold gleam in his eyes. “We seem to have encountered stronger resistance than expected, Damar.” His gaze pierced into the commander’s soul. “Fortunately, we have prepared for this eventuality.”

“Indeed we have.” Damar relaxed visibly, the fog of anger clearing from his mind. “Signal the second fleet. Begin Vole Swarm.” The comm pit scrambled to carry out his orders. Behind the fleet, boiling out of subspace corridors, came five thousand ships. Mostly Rasilaks and Legates, they swarmed over and around the larger Cardassian ships like angry rodents.

“Fleet is in position, Legate!”

Damar clenched his fist and looked out at the Imperial ships.

“Fire.”

***
Onboard the Enterprise, Admiral Lore was standing rigid in front of the tactical display. When he was devoting his mind to thinking, he tended to keep his body still. “Signal the Rutlidge and the Hyperion and have them bring the third arm to grid twenty-two by eight.” His crew carried out his orders with efficiency. On two separate occasions, Lore had summarily executed crewman who failed to perform at his expectations.

“Admiral,” Commissar Troi was growing alarmed in the midst of this. She had never been in a battle of this magnitude, or one that might be lost. “Moving up the third arm will leave our rear exp-“

Lore’s head snapped around and he cut her off with a raised hand. ”Thank you, Commissar for your thoughtful analysis. In the time I am using to tell you to be quiet, almost two-hundred ninety Imperial citizens will die in this battle. Do not make me waste their contribution.” He turned back to the display. “Contact the Wrath of Hydria, and tell them to send four wings through the gap in our flank. Order assault platform groups alpha and delta to fire a stuttered quantum burst along their vector in exactly fourteen point two seconds... mark!”

In space the pair of Wraiths flanked by Sovereigns brought up their arm of the second fleetgroup, bringing heavy fire to bear on the Cardassian line. In doing so, they left a large section of the fleetgroup undefended. Sure enough, a trio of Sartans, each the match for a baseline wraith, flanked by a number of Keldon cruisers came soaring in for the kill.

Suddenly a hail of glowing nova-blue torpedoes streaked out towards them, overwhelming their shields and vaporizing ablative plating. As the blasts subsided, the ships were surrounded by a swarm of Cobras, Vipers, and Hydran Trebuchets, spitting death from their hellbore cannons and carving flaming gashes along the superstructure of the ships. The Vipers pounded the ships with quantum torpedoes mercilessly. In another ten seconds, all eleven Cardassian ships were expanding balls of plasma.

Lore didn’t look back at Troi, but she knew that everyone else on the bridge was, and she could hear their thoughts; Section 31, always on the job... She never even went to fleet, who does she think she is? Her cheeks glowed in embarrassment.

“Admiral, I’m detecting a second wave of Cardassian ships advancing, mostly smaller hull-sizes.”

“Highlight the display, and give me scans of three of the nearest ships. I want details.” Lore bent to study his sensor console.

A tactical officer was processing the data. “They have minimal shields, sir, and their crew count is low. I am detecting no significant antimatter onboard, so they aren’t suicidal.”

Lore’s eyebrow arched. “There seems to be a scattering field preventing detailed internal scans... attempt to penetrate it.”

“Admiral,” Troi tried to salvage her authority “ there are currently over twenty wraith-analogues for our fleetgroup to contend with. I don’t think these new ships are any concern.”

"On the contrary, Commissar Troi," Lore looked up from his display while his hands continued working the controls. “ they are extremely important. Since Cardassians are neither unintelligent or vainglorious, they do not intend to sacrifice those ships for no tactical gain. I intend to determine that tactical gain.” He turned back to his readouts. “There is a high-energy surge in the forward section of each ship that is spiking into the terradyne range at an increasing frequency...” He jerked up and looked to the comm.

“Lieutenant Kellan, signal the fleet! Flash warning code Alpha nine. Designate each of those ships as a priority target.” He turned back to the display, “Shields emergency full to front. Link warp cores three and four to the main relays and engage power transfer.” As he watched, each of the smaller ships spat a massive bolt of energy towards an Imperial ship.

It was too late. The maulers began to slam into ships, shredding smaller ones and crippling those which survived. Four bolts were coming towards the Enterprise, and Lore knew the shields would not reach full power in time. “Oh... SHIT.”

***
“Kira, what is going on?” Sisko’s voice thundered across the command bridge.

After a few seconds a holo of Kira appeared on the stand next to him. “Admiral, it appears that the Cardassians refit a number of smaller ships with a single mauler cannon. Our forces are currently down eighteen percent, the Cardassians are at fifteen.”

“Those maulers can’t be firing more than once every forty seconds, destroy those ships!” Sisko flipped a switch on the comm and Kira was replaced by Aesstuusss. Without his suit, the hydran made Sisko do a double take. “Admiral, you see what’s going on?”

The Hydran’s eyelids blinked simultaneously, the equivalent of an affirmative nod. <I DO, SIR. I AM DISPATCHING ALL FIGHTERS TO SWEEPER DUTY.>

“Good. The first fleetgroup will provide covering fire, and we’ll see if we can get closer to the command ship.”

<ACKNOWLEDGED ADMIRAL. THE SHIPS’ SHIELDS SEEM TO BE REDUCED, AND I EXPECT A SEVENTY PERCENT REDUCTION IN THEIR NUMBER.> The hydran waved, and the connection turned off.

“Comm, get me our SWACS and have them paint all of the mauler-refits as priority targets, then flash that to the fleet. And-”

“Admiral!” A lieutenant interrupted him as he ran to the “The Enterprise is down. Last communique had breaches spanning fifteen decks and two of its warp cores were ejected. Its dead in space. Commodore Minchori has taken over for the second fleetgroup.”

Sisko’s eyes fell, and he clenched a fist. The banner ship of the Imperium had just been holed and was drifting. “Noted. Mark its position for salvage and signal the fleet that Rutlidge now has command of the second group. Transmit all codes to Commodore Minchori” He turned back to the holographic display and watched the tiny flashes of ships exploding. The battle wasn’t lost yet. Not by a long shot.
***

to be continued...

[CaptainChewbacca]

addendum: Please mods don't delete this installment. Its supposed to be here

[HappyTarget]

If you don't like it, I'm sorry, but I tried my best.

If they dinna like it, they can go suck eggs! I can't see what's not to like myself, it's a kick ass opening salvo for the Battle of Bajor!

[Crazedwraith]

wow

[Falkenhorst]

another excellent installment!

[JodoForce]

I like it

[CaptainChewbacca]

Insightful feedback that tells me exactly what I want to know about my writing

Hold on, I'l write more. But if I don't start getting specific feedback, so help me I'm gonna start putting NARN into this story.

[JodoForce]

Well...

Order assault platform groups alpha and delta to fire a stuttered quantum burst along their vector in exactly fourteen point two seconds... mark!”

I thought this part sounded rather contrived, as there should have been no way for the captain to know exactly when would be the optimum time to fire. He should just have said, 'Order assault platform groups alpha and delta to reserve weapons fire for targets along their vector for the next minute...' or something like that

[CaptainChewbacca]

I know, but keep in mind I gave that line to an Android, with superhuman intellect, timing, and plot-development skills.

All I really have to go on is an ep of Trek where Data was in command of a Federation ship in a blockade against a Romulan outpost.

[HappyTarget]

And even then it isn't an exact fit because it's Lore, not Data. Still, it's quite good IMHO.

[Crazedwraith]

One thing i dont quite get is that its Thomas Riker i understand that its the evil twin universe concept but tom was Will until they refound him so unless in the mirror universe they found the twin on that world and the rikers dueled or sumthing I still dont get y he calls himself Tom

[CaptainChewbacca]

I would guess that Will Riker was feeling a bit more "evil" in this universe and decided to change his name.

HT may correct me, but I don't think there's another Riker in this universe, since that mission probably never happened.

You know what I'd like to see? Will and Data in a fight against Lore and Tom.

[HappyTarget]

Wills dad named him Thomas William Riker instead of how he was named in canon. That's it. As CaptainChewbacca said, the mission never happend.

You know what I'd like to see? Will and Data in a fight against Lore and Tom.

Considering just how much of a missmatch this would be... I would as well!

The things you have Lore doing... (all good considering he was the prototype for the D-class assassin androids). It would definately be messy for the canon Data and Will. Heck, even Thomas Riker has extensive small arms and hand to hand training (all Starfleet personnelle must be at least marginally capable in H2H and small arms combat). And he wouldn't hide behind poor cover either, as poor cover is often disintigrated by maxed out phaser blasts or chewed up by hypersonic bullets in the TEverse.

[Akira]

Chapter 32 – Assassin

Outskirts of Eden, Assault Shuttle Marine 238 Baker

The anomalous biosign, the one that had been falling towards The Skipper and his pilot, had righted its explosion induced tumble. The Assault Shuttle’s airspeed had by now been reduced to a virtual crawl, her altitude maintained by her AG drives. Her now un-stowed, ominous looking chin turret tracked soundlessly, following the ship’s weapons officer head movements as he tracked the anomalous biosign. The ATG and ATA munitions housed in her belly bays were ready to launch at a moments notice, as were her own heavy HVM racks nestled in her wing roots. The targeting computer registered the anomalous biosign as a Grenobulin Condactal, but that was virtually impossible to be the truth. Grenobulin Condactals were avian predators of the Imperial colony world Grenobule. They were both the most intelligent of Grenobule’s denizens and occupied the highest rung on the planet’s food chain, at least till Terrans settled the world. As such, their transport to other worlds was very strictly regulated, and as far as anyone knew, none were on Lilith at all.

Then, the virtual impossibility of it being an actual Grenobulin Condactal became certain impossibility, for the biosigns shifted, replaced by those of a Vedran Titan. The beast, resembling a carnivorous version of a Terran rhinoceros that had enough natural armor to give a full powered hand phaser shot pause alighted on the ground, then began to stampede directly towards the marines clustered around Ulysses.

“Valley Forge, I have contact with a Changeling infiltrator. Suspect that he was responsible for Fallen Angel. Request weapons free status and permission to engage.” The pilot commed with a predatory snarl as she began to side-slip her large craft around to get a clear lane of fire.

Outskirts of Eden, Galactic Unity Operative 11J, that same time

This Terran was proving all too meddlesome. Once again, 11J had nothing to show for his efforts. But that was not how things would end. Not this time. Ulysses Vanguard was all too competent in his job to remain as a stumbling block to the Galactic Unity’s advance. 11J would see to that, even if it meant his own death. He morphed into one of the most terrifying predators in the galaxy, let out a blood chilling bellow, then charged towards his target.

Outskirts of Eden, Marines at Ulysses’ Position, that same time

Nearly as soon as the bellow came, every gun in the Marines trained on the now rapidly approaching monstrosity. For a split second they questioned how what their sensors were telling them could be true. Then a voice barked from their helmet speakers. “Chicks, this is Mother Hen: weapons free, repeat, weapons free. Take it out!” The Assault Shuttle’s pilot said.

The Marines went into action as soon as they heard the first weapons free order. Some had to take a short spy hop on the AG harnesses to gain sight of their target as it barreled through the softly undulating terrain. It was almost totally dark now, but to the Marines composite sensor arrays, it was of no consequence. Night was like day to their mechanical eyes, and they spat their sensor returns to the HUD that was painted on the Marine’s helmet. Targeting pipers fell across their target as they brought their weapons up to their shoulders. The Marines opened fire as near one, sending 103 streams of hypervelocity grav gun rounds into their target.

And nothing happened.

The kinetic punch of the bullets did nothing to the charging Titan, seeming to pass straight through it as if it wasn’t even there.

Outskirts of Eden, Galactic Unity Operative 11J, that same time

11J was ready for the likely response to his attack, altering his density on the fly, allowing the finger sized solid bullets to pierce him with no affect. As expected, they all had disarmed the bullets’ terminal impulse boosters to limit collateral damage. They were also using only AP bullets, not the more deadly HE ones. Their hesitance to employ heavier weapons would be their downfall.

Outskirts of Eden, Marines at Ulysses’ Position, that same time

McKennon swore under his helmet. Standard Anti-Changeling Tactics 101: Use energy weapons! Kinetic weapons would just pass right through them given their liquid natural state. In his and the others rush to fire, they forgot this cardinal rule. He commanded his suits AG harness to lift him up even as his thumb flicked the selector lever on his grav gun. Hovering in mid air, he shouted over the group com net. “Fire in the hole!”

His armor’s finger twitched, tugging the trigger. From his weapons under slung secondary launcher, a photon grenade spat forth at Mach 15. An unmistakable wail/scream joined the sky sundering thunder of his grenade’s birth.

Outskirts of Eden, Assault Shuttle Marine 238 Baker, that same time

The shuttle’s weapons operator silently cursed the fact that the target was to close to used really heavy weapons. Bringing up his weapons MFD, he selected the dual PPC’s housed in his chin turret. His index finger slid their power setting down to minimal levels, prayed it still wouldn’t hurt Ulysses and Lt. Theisman who were virtually unprotected. But there was no time for second guesses, in no time at all, the Changeling would be on top of The Skipper’s prostrate form, and then he would die regardless. The weapons operator pulled the trigger on his control stick ever so briefly, and four bolts golden bolts were loosed with a banshee scream that pierced the night air.

They slammed into the charging Changeling in Titan guise at virtually the same instant as the tiny AM charge of a photon grenade was freed from its prison. The PPC’s, even at low power, glassed a good portion of the target area’s soil. They also threw up fountains of dirt and debris, digging small, smoldering craters. But all that limited destruction was wiped away as the directed AM explosion of the photon grenade loosed itself. For a brief moment, a tiny new star was birthed, loosing an eye tearing boil of light and energy that pockmarked Lilith’s surface. While the directed nature of the blast wasn’t perfect, for not even Imperial micro forcefields could hope to fully contain and direct the full force of an AM explosion, they did last just long enough to focus the lions share of the blast and it’s accompanying radiation into a roughly meter wide radius cone at the target. The crater that this release of energy caused was quite large, and debris was thrown quite high up into Lilith’s atmosphere. Shockwaves blew outward, knocking the nearer Marines over in spite of their anti-kinetic shielding. The medics had extended their own suits shields around the unconscious forms of Ulysses and his pilot, weakening their overall strength to allow the two some mediocre level of protection. It proved to be sufficient however, for the pair only received slightly increased radiation exposures through the cocooning embrace of the shields. Through both the out gust and corresponding return of air and the raining down of debris that included head sized chunks of smoldering granite.

And then it was over.

“Indigo,” the assault shuttle’s weapons operator said, turning to his left to stare at the pilot shrouded in her flight suit, “I am detecting no more anomalous readings, biological or technological. I think we got em.” There was evident relief in his voice as he continued. “Also, both Admiral Vanguard and Lt. Theisman are still alive according to my screens.”

“Thank God for that Rocky.” The assault shuttle’s pilot replied from behind her concealing helmet, her own relief giving her voice a slight quaver. She forced it away as she continued. “Keep an eye out though. If the GU managed to get a changeling dirtside and a heavy HVM emplacement kept secret, lord knows what else they may have done.” As she spoke, she pulled the assault shuttle’s nose up and slipped into an oval circuit over the Marines below her. There was a crater, glowing faintly dull red, far to close to the Marine’s position for comfort. Another piece of good news was that the blast wave from the photon grenade had largely put out the small fire that had near totally consumed the small grove of trees where the remains of Ulysses aircar had crashed.

“238 Baker, this is 409 Alpha coming in from your bearing 308 mark 193.” The ship to ship com system crackled. “We can provide over watch while you descend and pick up Fallen Angel.”

“Acknowledged 409 Alpha. As soon as our medics give the word, well do just that.”

“Mother Hen, this is Chick Mike One.” The senior of the Marine’s medics reported up to the assault shuttle. “We have Fallen Angel and his pilot as stabilized as we can get them. Requesting biovac ASAP.”

“Roger Chick Mike One. Mother Hen to all Chicks, well be landing 104 meters due south of Fallen Angel. Expedite loading, we need to get The Skipper and his pilot to medical attention.”

Outskirts of Eden, Marines at Ulysses’ Position, that same time

“Understood Mother Hen. Well be ready when you land.” Lt. Avery replied. For once, he didn’t notice and take exception to the flight crew’s mollycoddling.

By now, the SWAT Hoppers and other emergency aircars were nearly onsite. The piercing wail of the sirens created a cacophony that was all but impossible to ignore. The Hoppers, their open sides heavy with armored SWAT troops, were approaching cautiously but with all due speed. The ambulances and fire trucks were farther back but keeping themselves occupied treating the wounded citizens and putting out the small fires caused by flaming debris.

The medics had already applied neck and back supports to both parties, for they had endured considerable trauma to their neck and spines and the medics first aid kits couldn’t effectively treat them. The chief medic was concerned with the considerable damage done to Ulysses head. Judging from the wood splinters imbedded in the lower wound, it had been done by a tree limb. But the upper wound was the one that concerned him. It had fractured the Admiral’s skull, caused when he had become a projectile after the hydrogen explosion and happened to have the bad luck to land head first on pretty much the only exposed rock around. Another crack of thunder was heard as the power armor’s sensors detected the approach of another assault shuttle.

The medics extracted fist sized cubic bundles from their combat webbing. Shoving their mechanical fingers into similar sized recesses along one side of the cube, it promptly sprang apart, expanding into two parallel poles with pliable thatch pattern webbing between them.

“Gotta love adaptive alloy.” One of the Marines quipped. The metallic alloy was very tough and durable, virtually indestructible in fact, but possessed nearly the same flexibility as cloth unless a proper current was applied to make it stiffer than steel.

“Ready? One…Two…Three!” Under the medic’s direction, a cluster of marines shifted the two wounded Imperials as gently as possible onto the gurneys. Then one picked up either end of the gurney, scarcely noticing the weight thanks to their exoskeletons. Whisper quiet, a black dagger against the night sky, the assault shuttle swooped low overhead to settle down on landing skids a short distance away. The Marines hustled their charges aboard, clanging quickly up the lowered rear hatch. The last one had barely cleared it when it began to close and the assault shuttle began to rise. Thanks to its internal grav plating and dampers, it was able to climb vertically without waiting for the passengers to secure themselves. It did exactly that, screaming upward and leaving the atmosphere behind in seconds. 409 Alpha took up station on their port wingtip and matched their full power climb to orbit. Halfway to the Forge, a full three wings of fighters dropped about them. As 238 Baker slowed her advance, coming close to the Valley Forge’s primary landing bay, the fighter’s peeled back out of her way, but didn’t stray far. It wasn’t until after the bay’s tractors had pulled her inside and the armor blast doors had resealed that the fighters again returned to their patrol routes.

Valley Forge, Lilith Orbit

The usually bustling docking bay was unnaturally quiet as the assault shuttle settled into its birth. Drifting tail first into its honeycomb like cell, with the now sealed blast doors almost directly in front of her predatory beak, anchor arms settled around her, binding her fast to the deck. The rear ramp was lowered and the Forge’s medical personnel were already in place waiting with an pair of AG carts. Anna Petersmith was at their head, blue eyes worried and face pinched with concern. P’tel and Commissar Stevens were also on hand, both with masks of neutrality. P’tel because she had to maintain her emotional detachment, Stevens because she wasn’t sure weather to be happy or sad that Ulysses had nearly died. True, he was a gifted commander, but that sword cut both ways, making him a potential threat to the Emperor and the Empire.

As soon as the Marines had settled Ulysses gurney down on the AG cart, she slipped her medical goggles down and activated them. Having all the functions of a medical tricorder but in goggle form to allow both hands to be free and a much more user friendly display, it quickly showed her just how extensive Ulysses injuries were. Flicking between sensor return overlays, she saw every broken bone, every abused muscle, every ruptured blood vessel. It wasn’t pretty.

“Get the Admiral prepped for surgery immediately.” She said as she and the medical staff trotted down the hall towards Sickbay Four with the two AG carts in tow. It was only a short distance down the hallway, placed there specifically to expedite the speed which wounded Marines could be patched back together. The skull fracture had caused internal hemorrhage on the brain, and the pressure was slowly building to dangerous levels. Although it should be easy to repair, it could be more complicated than it first looked.

“It could be a while.” She said to the Valley Forge’s mistress and political watchdog. “I’ll com you when he’s ready to receive visitors.” She then spun on her heel, ending the conversation and striding through the sickbay doors that shut behind her with a squeak/swoosh.

Ulysses had just been set down on the operating table when he began to thrash. “He’s having a seizure!” A nurse shouted as Anna sprinted to the table. Then Ulysses life sign readings began to plummet.

“Damn it, don’t you die on me Ulysses Vanguard!” Anna cursed. “Neural and cardiovascular stimulators, NOW!” Sickbay burst into a flurry of motion as her medical staff raced against time to save Ulysses life.

[Crazedwraith]

1st to post (i hope)
EDIT: Once again a great cliffhanger

[HappyTarget]

As long as Ulysses stays away from trees and rocks, he should be allright.

[CaptainChewbacca]

I don't get it.

Skipper is gonna be mad come time for the next big fight, though.

[Crazedwraith]

dam has no one else read any of your unparrelled pst fanfic yet?
Not fair that no ones commenting on it